Page 37 - Twin and Turbine September 2017

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It is an ungodly hour on a soaking wet gray morning, with occasional flashes of lightening still visible on the horizon as the recently passed thunderstorm moves out to the east. I am 150 miles from home, suspended some 15 feet above the tree tops, sitting on an
uncomfortable fake blue leather seat, which itself is hanging from a six-foot rotating steel shaft connected through some belts and a transmission to a six-cylinder Lycoming 540 cubic inch engine, loudly roaring away at a steady 2,300 rpm just behind me.
I am making short passes up and down the rows over a roughly 10-acre rectangular patch of ground covered with cherry trees, being careful to keep my altitude low, avoid the power lines on one end, random tall posts holding large propellers that rise above my flight level, and building size blocks of empty cherry boxes stacked around the plot. Beneath me from time to time, I see a middle-aged worker of Mexican heritage, wearing a dusty old white cowboy hat, and riding a muddy, beat-up red Yamaha quad runner, checking my progress and carefully examining the trees I have passed over. He is a friendly fellow, and occasionally looks up, smiles over some tobacco stained teeth, and waves. In between concentrating on what I am doing, my thoughts drift to a nice cup of hot coffee, plus perhaps some scrambled eggs and bacon. But that won’t happen for quite a while.
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